A Most Excellent Midlife Crisis : A Paranormal Women's Fiction Novel : Good To The Last Death Book Three

by Robyn Peterman

  “Yes way! Read it on the internet so it’s true!” Jennifer shot back, massively proud of her nightmare-worthy trivia.

  Heather squinted at Jennifer in disbelief. “You believe everything you read on the internet?”

  “Hell no,” Jennifer replied with a laugh. “But it’s damn useful in certain situations—like right now.”

  “Very nice and hopefully inaccurate,” Tim choked out with his hand over his shirt-covered nipple in solidarity with the possibly maimed Lorne Green. “But I am prepared to take you down. An early form of contraception included soaking dried beaver testicles in a strong alcohol solution and drinking it.”

  The entire group turned slightly green, including Tim. However, that didn’t stop Jennifer.

  “I’m gonna remember that one,” she said, giving Tim a thumbs up. “It’ll go over like a lead balloon at the next Gladiolas ladies club meeting. Thank you.”

  “Welcome,” Tim said. “Do I win?”

  “In your dreams,” Jennifer shot back, eliciting moans of pain from Heather, Missy, June, Candy, me and even Gram. “There have been documented reports of vacuum toilets on planes and cruise ships sucking the rectums out of people.”

  “Good Lord, no more fast food, flying or cruising for me,” June said with a wince.

  “This party has gone to Hell,” I said, shaking my head and regretting inviting Candy and Tim.

  “In a handbasket,” Missy agreed.

  “I think my soul just withered up and took a vacation.” June laughed, fanning herself with her napkin.

  “Impossible,” Tim replied, growing very serious. “Your soul is propelled into your body when you’re in the womb. At birth it becomes an invisible force that blesses you with life. At the end of your Earthly tenure, your soul is catapulted into a luminous dimension at the moment of your demise. So, don’t worry about it taking a vacation. It’s not in the bounds of reasonable actions for your soul.”

  The luncheon went from the bowels of Hell into the bizarre realms of Heaven. No one uttered a word. Although, Heather gave Tim the stink eye. It was insanely tricky to mix humans and Immortals… or maybe it was just Tim. He’d be getting a few more lessons on acceptable human etiquette before we tried this again.

  Missy, in savior mode, quickly spoke up. “Speaking of souls. I come from a line of Soul Keepers. Old wives’ tale in my family.”

  “You do?” Tim asked with such great interest it made the hair on my neck stand up.

  “Yep,” she said with a laugh. “As the story goes, I’m a descendent of Marie Laveau. Although, my parents railed against the voodoo magic in our family tree by becoming over-the-top Christian.”

  This was the point when Birdie lost her damned mind. She began circling Missy like a mini dead tornado.

  “Snake handling?” Tim inquired. “Speaking in tongues?”

  “Yep and yep,” Missy said.

  Birdie screeched unintelligibly at a volume I was sure would bring the rest of the squatters downstairs.

  With a concealed snap of her fingers, Heather was able to mute Birdie’s wails. But she couldn’t stop the specter’s frantic movement. Acting normal was growing increasingly difficult.

  “I get these feelings sometimes,” Missy said, tilting her head to the side in thought. “Like now. I feel an icy wind as if a ghost is walking over my grave.”

  “Now? Right now?” Candy asked, shocked.

  “Yep,” Missy replied with a laugh. “Crazy. Right?”

  “Crazy,” I agreed, forcing out a laugh that sounded strange even to me.

  “End the luncheon,” Steve whispered in my ear.

  “And keep Missy here,” Gram said.

  Shit. I had no clue why Gram wanted Missy to stay, but questioning it was impossible with everyone here.

  My acting talent wasn’t great. It went hand in hand with being a poor liar, but necessity was the mother of invention… or in my case, a throwback to my high school drama class skills or lack thereof. I stood up, stretched my arms and yawned.

  “Oh my! You’re tired, sweetie,” June said, jumping to her feet and giving me a motherly hug. “We should get going soon.”

  “Yep,” Jennifer agreed, slapping Tim on the back. “You’re a dang worthy competitor and right out of your ever-lovin’ mind. Rumor has it that you x-ray and steal mail, but that doesn’t bother me one bit. A little unlawful activity is healthy, but don’t tell Dip I said that—don’t want him to use the cuffs on me other than in the boudoir, if you get my drift.”

  “It would be really hard to miss your drift,” Heather pointed out.

  Jennifer simply laughed, gave Heather a thumbs up and continued her mostly socially unacceptable rambling. “Get this! When I had my Botox appointment, the receptionist went to the bathroom and I peeked at all the files. I have crap on everybody in town. Harry Johnson had a penis enlargement.”

  Candy Vargo barked out a laugh. “That is not his name.”

  “Oh, yes it is!” Jennifer told her with a wide grin. “Named his kid Richard—they call that poor boy Dick. But in their defense, Dick Johnson is a family name.”

  “Only in the South,” Missy said, shaking her head. “So, there are a lot of Dick Johnsons?”

  “Five that I know of and a daughter named Ima,” Jennifer confirmed. “But here’s the kicker. Anne Wilson Benang Walters had her knockers done… five times.”

  “I knew it,” Gram yelled. “That woman looked like a hussy at my funeral. She tells everyone she was born with those rock-hard, pointy hooters. Anne Wilson Benang Walters is a liar-lair pants on fire. She’d pee down your back and tell you it’s raining.”

  I almost told Gram to hush, but thankfully caught myself. “Umm… Jennifer, did that enlightening diatribe have a point?” I asked.

  “Yep,” she answered with a chuckle. “I’d like to invite Tim to dinner with Dip and me. I have a feeling it will be an illuminating meal.”

  “It would be my pleasure,” Tim replied, surprised and pleased.

  “Remind me not to go to that dinner,” June whispered with a grin. “I’ve learned enough today to last me a lifetime.”

  “Ditto,” I said, hugging her tight.

  “Great lunch, Daisy,” Jennifer said. “Great company. Great time. Do you want me to leave the rest of the wine?”

  “No,” I told her. “Take it home with you, but I wouldn’t mind at all if June left a few cookies.”

  “They’re all yours,” June said. “I’ll get my platter back later in the week. Charlie and I are watching our calories.”

  After a bunch of hugs and a promise that Heather would help me clean up, June and Jennifer made their exit. I didn’t even have to ask Missy to stay. She and Heather were deep in conversation.

  Turning my back to them, I whispered to Gram, “Why am I keeping Missy here?”

  “Don’t rightly know,” she admitted. “Got a feeling in my gut.”

  “Me too,” Steve added as he floated next to Gram and kept an eye on Heather and Missy.

  “Hoooooooookaaah dieeah foooor yooouah,” Birdie said, pointing to Missy.

  My stomach dropped. There was no way Missy was going to die for me. Talking to Birdie was imperative. I just hoped I could find out what I needed to know with the Ouija board, since mind diving was on hold for the time being.

  Chapter Nine

  “You think I’m nuts, don’t you,” Missy said, drying off a platter and putting it back up in the slotted cabinet over the oven.

  We were alone in the kitchen. Gram had let Birdie know under no uncertain terms that she needed to back off of Missy. Birdie called Gram a few unmentionable words with the F-bomb attached to all of them, then floated away in a huff. Candy, Tim and Heather had taken the dogs out to do their business.

  “No. I don’t think you’re nuts,” I told her, handing her another plate. “I think Tim is nuts and Candy Vargo is a close second.”

  “Speaking of… what made you invite them today?”

  How to answer that questio
n… Lying was out, but so was the entire truth.

  Peeking out of the kitchen window to make sure they were out of earshot, I continued to wash the dirty dishes. “They both need friends,” I told Missy truthfully. “Tim and I have been chatting lately and I feel sorry for him. And Candy? I can’t really explain it. I just feel like no one has ever paid much attention to her, and it makes me sad. She and Tim kind of remind me of the broken presents on the Island of Misfit Toys. I figured our group would be a safe place for them. So, if anyone is nuts, it’s me.”

  Missy eyed me for a long moment then grinned. “Dude, I love you so much.”

  “Right back at you.”

  “So, the Soul Keeper thing didn’t freak you out?” she asked, sitting down at the table and munching on a cookie.

  “Nope. Didn’t freak me out. Is it true?” I asked, drying off my hands and joining her.

  She shrugged and laughed. “No. At least I don’t think so, but it’s a fun story.”

  “What does a fictional Soul Keeper do?” I asked casually as I filled up four plastic containers with cookies for Candy, Tim, Heather and Missy to take home. There was no way I was keeping dozens of June’s peanut butter cookies. I would eat every one of them.

  Missy plopped her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her hands. “As the legend goes, a Soul Keeper is a safe place for souls to reside before they leave this realm. They come to the Keeper when they’re not safe elsewhere.”

  It was an odd statement. My breath caught strangely in my throat. I covered it with a cough. “Why would a soul not be safe?”

  “The only stories I ever heard were from my great-granny on my mother’s side when I was little. The family said she was insane and put her away in a home when I was around seven. I thought she was magical. I adored her,” Missy said with a faraway gleam in her eyes. “She was beautiful—dark black skin and wild gray curls. Her eyes twinkled and she had a laugh that made me feel loved.”

  “What were the stories?” I was sure the answer was important. I couldn’t put my finger on why, but I was going with my gut. Gram and Steve had insisted Missy stay. Maybe this fictional tale was precisely why.

  “Oh, they were silly, but I used to hang on her every word,” she said. “Apparently, a soul will come to a Keeper when an Angel wishes it ill.”

  “An Angel?” I asked, happy I was seated because my knees went weak.

  “Yep. Read the Bible. Angels are not always the good guys.”

  No kidding. That was the understatement of the century.

  “Does it happen a lot—that a soul needs to be hidden from an Angel?” I asked.

  “Don’t know.” Missy squinted at me. “Do you believe in this kind of stuff? I thought you were agnostic.”

  “Up until recently, I thought I was atheist,” I admitted. “After Steve died, I didn’t believe in anything.”

  Missy was quiet for a long moment. “What made you change your mind?”

  “You’re going to think I’ve lost it,” I told her.

  “Umm, I just told you that I feel dead people walking on my grave and about the family lore of Soul Keepers. Don’t think much is stranger than that.”

  She was so very wrong.

  “Dreams,” I said. It was the safest thing I could share. “Steve came to me in my dreams and I saw a golden light. I know he’s going into it. It made me believe.” It was a combination of a few different scenarios, but all were true.

  As I spoke the words, Steve floated into the kitchen and seated himself beside Missy.

  “Daisy,” Missy said haltingly. “Can I ask you something? And you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

  “Ask me.” I knew what was coming.

  “That day in my shop a couple of weeks ago… the day you slipped up and said you and Steve didn’t have a sex life…”

  “Tell her,” Steve said, smiling sadly at me. “Tell her. It’s okay. Let your best friend in on the truth as much as you can.”

  Looking down at my hands, I sighed. I didn’t want Missy to be angry at Steve. There were always two sides to every story, and our story was complicated. I searched for a way to soften the blow and couldn’t find one. I was a crappy liar and Missy knew me far too well.

  Ripping the Band-Aid off quickly was the way to go.

  “Steve was gay,” I said.

  Missy’s sharp intake of breath was expected. Her tears were not. “Oh Daisy,” she whispered, reaching for me. “I’m so sorry… for both of you.”

  There was a reason I adored this woman with every fiber in my body.

  “Me too,” I said, taking her outstretched hand. “We really had a great life together—a platonic, loving life. It kind of messed me up sexually, but I’m working on that. I didn’t understand for a long time, and I don’t think Steve understood, either. I’m not angry with him… or myself. I’ll love him until the day I die… I just…”

  “Wish that both of you could have been loved in the way you should have been loved,” she finished for me.

  I nodded. “But I wouldn’t have found Gideon if I hadn’t been with Steve.”

  I didn’t add that Gideon was the Grim Reaper or that my dead husband heartily approved. That would be a little too much to take in.

  “Life is some serious weird, dude,” Missy said, squeezing my hand. “What’s your opinion of Heather and me?”

  I raised my brow and grinned. “What’s your opinion?” I countered. “Your opinion far outweighs mine.”

  Missy laughed and closed her eyes. “Well, I’ll never be able to bring her home to my parents, but since I never go home anymore…”

  “Do you love her?”

  “Love is a huge word,” Missy replied. “Huge.”

  “Agreed,” I said.

  “What I experienced growing up kind of warped the definition for me,” Missy went on. “Do I feel happier with Heather? Yes. Am I attracted to her? Absolutely. Does her well-being consume me? Yep. Can I live openly as a gay woman in a farked-up small Southern town?”

  “Are you asking me to answer that last question?” I inquired.

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. “The real question is can I keep denying who I am so I’m socially acceptable, or will I continue to pretend and ruin my chance at real happiness… and dare I add love?”

  “Look,” I said, glancing over at Steve. “I didn’t realize Steve was gay. If I had we would have figured something out. Being gay isn’t a sin. Not living your truth or finding peace and happiness—that’s the sin.”

  “Tell that to my mother,” Missy muttered with a disgusted snort.

  “Your mother isn’t living your life for you, thank God. You are… if you choose to. Hiding is no way to live. That I can say with conviction. Look, I’m not exactly the person to go to for relationship advice, but since you asked… I say go for it. Life is short and love is hard to find. Screw people who don’t get it. You don’t like any of those asshats anyway.”

  Missy threw her head back and laughed. “You are correct. I don’t. Daisy?”

  “What?”

  “Thank you,” she said softly.

  “Always, my BFF. Always.”

  Steve smiled and gently touched Missy’s hand. Missy shuddered then giggled.

  “So damn weird,” she said, staring at her hand.

  “What’s weird?” I asked, glancing over at Steve, who backed away quickly. He stared at Missy in surprise.

  “Another ghost must have walked over my grave,” she said, shrugging. “I felt the chill on my hand. Beeeezarreo.”

  With a small nod at Steve, he took the hint and disappeared. “Speaking of beeeezarreo, tell me more about your family’s side job as Soul Keepers.”

  “Seriously, dude?” she asked with a laugh.

  “Seriously, dude. I find it fascinating.”

  “Mmkay,” Missy said, wrinkling her nose in thought. “From what I remember of the stories, the soul doesn’t take over the Keeper’s personality like in a horror movie. Supposedl
y, it’s peaceful. The Keeper might not even be aware that someone hitched a ride. The soul hides in a Keeper when it needs a safe haven.”

  “So, you’re still you even if you’re toting around a few extra people?” I asked with a giggle.

  “According to my great-granny, yes,” she answered, grinning. “No spinning heads or creepy-man voices. Honestly, I wish it was true. I think it would be incredibly cool.”

  I was so tempted to say beware of what you wish for, but kept my lip zipped.

  “Oh, but there’s more. When it’s safe for the soul to move on, the Soul Keeper is supposed to find a Death Counselor.”

  I almost puked. Missy’s great-granny knew a whole lot of things she shouldn’t have known as a human.

  “You okay?” Missy asked, touching my forehead. “You just went some serious pale, my friend.”

  “Fine. I’m fine,” I said, plastering a smile on my mouth and hoping it didn’t look like I was constipated. “So, umm… Soul Keepers are supposed to find a what?”

  “A Death Counselor. Can you believe that shit? I should write a book and sell it in my shop. I’ll call it The Keeper and the Counselor Bustin’ a Move on the Soul Train. Maybe Great-Granny was insane—or maybe I am for sort of believing it.” Missy shook her head and stood up.

  “I would have liked to have known your great-granny.”

  “She would have loved you,” Missy said. “I’m just so happy I knew Gram. I feel the same way Jennifer does—like Gram was mine, too.”

  “Tim, I really don’t think it’s necessary to share that,” Heather grumbled as the trio came back in the house.

  “They’re her dogs,” Tim insisted. “She’ll want to know. I would want to know.”

  “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Heather asked with sarcasm dripping from each word.

  “Congratulations. Donna pooped a damn mountain,” Candy Vargo announced as she, Heather and Tim walked into the kitchen and sat down at the table.

  “Karen’s movement was quite impressive as well,” Tim pointed out. “However, none of it was cubed.”

  “Remind me to stop spending time with you two,” Heather said, smiling at Missy then narrowing her eyes at Tim and Candy. “You’re both disgusting.”